


Travel not advised; proceed with caution

by MapleLeafSquareRoot



Category: Schitt's Creek
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Cuddling & Snuggling, First Kiss, M/M, Romance, Tenderness, snowpocalypse, soft so soft
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-14
Updated: 2019-10-14
Packaged: 2020-12-14 22:42:26
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,822
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21023429
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MapleLeafSquareRoot/pseuds/MapleLeafSquareRoot
Summary: A late-season storm strands pre-relationship David and Patrick overnight.





	Travel not advised; proceed with caution

**Author's Note:**

  * In response to a prompt by Anonymous in the [SCFrozenOver](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/SCFrozenOver) collection. 

> This was the FO fic that wasn't supposed to happen.  
But then, my own long weekend road trip was thwarted by the snowpocalypse.  
The first 700 words or so are based on my own Thursday night, and then it gets soooooooooft.
> 
> Thank you to [beta redacted] for the last minute beta. 
> 
> Sorry to the prompter for not taking this beyond a G.

David checking his phone every five minutes was just as distracting to Patrick as it was to David. Patrick knew that his business partner was perseverating on the deteriorating weather conditions in the area, concerned about their weekend trip to North Bay to meet a potential new vendor of ceramic spoon rests. He also knew that his reassurances of all-wheel drive and promises of going slow or turning around if necessary were falling upon deaf ears. All he could realistically do was maintain some semblance of normalcy in their work day. 

By 3:30 pm, 90 minutes before close, the roads between Schitt’s Creek and North Bay were snow packed with reduced visibility. By 4:45 pm, 15 minutes before close, travel was not advised. But Patrick remained unfazed. Having grown up in rural Ontario, he was accustomed to hyperbolic and inaccurate road reports, as well as driving in legitimately sketchy winter weather. And this unusually late May snowstorm was certainly going to prove to be a test of his ability. Despite his own growing doubt, Patrick remained calm in the face of David’s worry.

At 5:00 pm sharp, David flipped the sign to CLOSED and turned his attention to the end of the day tasks. Counting the till, rhythmically counting, soothed him. Stacking the receipts, keeping them together with an elastic band, restocking the shelves, labels facing out. Methodically preparing for the next opening day, which was scheduled to be three days from now on Tuesday. Patrick swept, cleaned the washroom, and patiently waited for David to do what he needed to do to feel at peace in his space before leaving it for the weekend. 

By 5:30 pm, both men were ready to leave. Having packed their bags before work, they could leave right from the store. 

David offered to drive for the first little while, knowing the roads were worse the further north they travelled. He elected not to listen to music, gripping the steering wheel with white knuckles. With each grimace, Patrick offered to drive, but David stubbornly insisted that he would be okay. 

92 kilometres outside of Schitt’s Creek, David had finally had enough. He couldn’t see the road, and when he could, found that he was constantly skirting the centre line. He could see the headlights of the semi-trucks coming up slowly behind him, ramping up his nerves. He asked Patrick to help navigate him to an intersecting road, where he could safely pull over and let Patrick take the wheel. Despite his growing anxiety, he refused to pull over to wherever he perceived the shoulder to be, for fear of the reduced visibility of the drivers behind him. 

Stopped safely on a side road, the two men took the time to refresh the road conditions on their phones. Nothing had changed. 

“This is how people die, Patrick!” David exclaimed, clearly at the end of this emotional rope.

Though concerned, Patrick knew his role was to keep David calm. 

“Let me drive, David. Give me ten minutes. If it doesn’t get better, or gets worse, we will turn around.”

Reluctantly, David agreed, and he and Patrick switched places. Despite his calm exterior, David could tell his business partner was at least somewhat concerned about the road conditions. If not by his tightened grip on the steering wheel, then by his refusal to be distracted by any of his usual driving playlists. 

Precisely 12 kilometres later, a sign came into view - GRAVENHURST 1 km - and Patrick signaled a turn onto the exit. Pulling into the nearest gas station and putting the car in park, he turned and looked at David. “You’re right, David. This isn’t safe. I think we need to figure out a place to stay the night, and maybe get going again in the morning.”

David feels vindicated for a fleeting moment before he realizes they will have to scramble to find accommodations, or end up sleeping in the car. On one hand, a local hotel would be more comfortable, but on the other, sleeping in the car would mean David wouldn’t have to deal with seeing his (unassumingly sexy) business partner in less than his usual mid-range denim and button ups. Truly, a toss-up. 

Patrick, seemingly less conflicted, and more focused on comfort, than anything else, started making phone calls. It didn’t take long before he found a hotel room available for the night.

David had seen one too many rom-coms to not be on edge during the short drive to the hotel. What trope would play itself out? The only available room having but one bed? Being assigned the honeymoon suite? Or would they just simply share accommodations for the night with no Hollywood-worthy outcome?

Check-in eliminated the possibility of bed-sharing and/or the random assignment of a room designed for romance. Their nondescript hotel room had two queen beds, a standard combination bathtub/shower with barely enough room for one, let alone a steamy two, and a view of Gull Lake, currently obscured by the blustery snow. A small restaurant next door to the hotel would have to suffice for some quick take out, as the roads worsened. 

In fact, the remainder of the evening played out rather anticlimactically, much to the disappointment of David’s romantically addled brain. Following dinner, the two men took turns in the bathroom, showering and preparing for sleep. Settled in their respective beds, they watched the local news coverage, showing the havoc this storm was causing all throughout the region. While Patrick was in the bathroom, David changed the channel to  _ Ten Things I Hate About You _ playing on Movie Central. 

Julia Stiles’ character was  _ just _ in the midst of the titular poem:

_ I hate your big dumb combat boots _

_ And the way you read my mind _

_ I hate you so much that it makes me sick _

_ It even makes me rhyme _

_ I hate the way you're alwa- _

when there was a flash and a loud bang, and sudden darkness. 

And with that, their evening came to an abrupt end. With the stress of the day now behind them, both David and Patrick fell asleep quickly. 

*****

David woke to the sound of Patrick rustling in his overnight bag.

“Sorry,” Patrick whispered. “I’m freezing. Seeing how I can add more layers.”

Under cover of darkness, David smirked. Not three hours prior, Patrick had teased him for his choice of long pants and heavy sweatshirt as sleeping attire. His sense of victory didn’t last long, as he heard Patrick’s teeth chatter while he pulled out every packed item of clothing from his bag. David dragged himself out of the warm covers, and began pulling the top sheet and duvet off of Patrick’s bed and rearranging it on his bed. 

“Let’s do this,” he offered. 

Patrick shone his phone flashlight towards David’s bed, a look of doubt in his eyes. David crawled back into bed, backing up and holding the covers open for Patrick. “Here.”

Reluctantly, Patrick got into David’s bed and laid on his back with the covers tucked under his feet then pulling them up to his chin. 

David laid on his side, facing Patrick. “Hey,” he said softly, “I’ll stay on my side. It’s fine.”

Patrick let out a quiet chuckle. 

Several moments passed in the deafening silence unique to a power outage. David thought perhaps Patrick had fallen asleep, so he rolled over on his other side and closed his eyes, willing his mind to not run amok with thoughts of his business partner actually in his bed. 

A quiet “David?” was followed by Patrick clearing his throat, effectively breaking the silence.

“What if…uh...what if I…don’t want you to stay on your side?” 

David’s jaw dropped. He slowly rolled over to face Patrick, hopeful the dark would conceal the shock on his face. Patrick turned over towards David. There was just enough light from the waxing crescent moon shining in the window, landing on Patrick, for David to see the tenderness in Patrick’s eyes. Neither man spoke. 

David reached out, gently cupping Patrick’s cool cheek. Patrick pressed forward into the touch, as though committing the softness of David’s hand to memory. . For a moment, they paused, their breathing coming into sync, eyes searching each others’ faces in the low light. David tentatively extended one of his long legs, crossing the invisible boundary between the two and lightly rested his foot under Patrick’s. He quirked an eyebrow, pulling his lips into his signature smirk.

Patrick couldn’t help but laugh. And as he relaxed, David pulled him closer, until their lips were ghosting softly together. 

“Are you sure?” David murmured, his heart rabbiting in his chest. 

Finally,  _ finally _ , after months of pining and uncertainty, Patrick could barely manage a slight nod, and a breathy “yes,” unwilling to move his lips from the imminent kiss.

It was chaste. Brief. But warm. Perfect. 

David pulled back slightly, lowering his hand to Patrick’s shoulder.

“Thank you,” Patrick said softly.

“For what?”

“Uh, I’ve never done that before…with a guy.”

“Oh, okay…” David suspended his tendency to spiral, in favour of giving his business partner turned  _ something else?  _ the benefit of the doubt.

“Yeah…and I’ve been wanting to do that for several weeks, and each day that I let you leave without us having done that, I worried I would never muster up the courage to tell you…so, uh, thank you for making that happen for us.”

David couldn’t suppress a grin. “Well, fortunately, I am a very generous person, so…”

Patrick sensed the preciousness of the moment. He knew about David’s history of failed relationships based on people taking advantage of his money, his time, or his vulnerability, and something in Patrick sensed that this was new territory for them both. If David shared Patrick’s feelings, and so far all signs pointed to a soft, yet resounding  _ yes _ , then Patrick wanted to proceed with caution. No teasing. Instead, he hooked David’s leg with his own, ran his fingers through David’s hair, and leaned in, capturing David’s lips. Less chaste. Enduring. Both expressing several weeks of pent up emotion through their lips, their tentatively wandering hands. More perfect than before, if that was even possible. 

They laid there for what seemed like hours. Trading soft kisses and whispered affirmations.

Savouring the freedom from whatever emotional boundaries had prevented this revelation from occurring prior. 

_ David. _

_ Patrick. _

_ So beautiful. _

_ So handsome. _

_ Creative. _

_ Strong. _

_ Wanted this for so long. _

_ Me too.  _

_ Finally. _

_ Thank you, Patrick. _

Eventually, the kisses slowed, and the sweet whispers trailed off. 

David rolled onto his back, raised his right arm, and gestured for Patrick to curl up into his side. Patrick laid with his head on David’s warm chest, right arm slung up and around, tangling his fingers in David’s soft hair. David rubbed Patrick’s shoulder, and pressed kiss after kiss on top of Patrick’s head, inhaling his scent. 

_ “Goodnight, David.” _

_ “Goodnight, Patrick.” _

  
  
  
  
  



End file.
